


Almost Like a Dream

by ASeasonOfPoison



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Beauty and the Beast Elements, F/M, Gen, Trope Subversion/Inversion, lady sansa the scarred, ser sandor the honorable
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-10
Updated: 2015-03-10
Packaged: 2018-03-17 06:22:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3518699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ASeasonOfPoison/pseuds/ASeasonOfPoison
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[Revamp of Of Songs & Scars]</p><p>Sansa, once known as a beautiful girl, is involved in an accident that burns half her face. Overlooked in favor of her sister nowadays, her parents are unsure she’ll ever marry. Sansa has become introverted and wonders if she should even masquerade as a lady anymore. She flees Winterfell in search of a more rewarding life and hopes she'll be able to find love. What happens when she comes across one of the most honorable knights in the land, The Hound? // Under Hiatus, Possible Discontinuance //</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sansa Snow

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know how often I'll be updating, I do know that the first few chapters will be almost identical to the original ones, and may change over time. I'm not quite sure. Bear with me on how often I update, because I'm a full time college student and it sucks.

Sansa Stark had been a stunning girl, a breathtaking beautiful girl, in fact she had been one of the fairest girls in all of Westeros. She had sweet silky hair that shared its color with the sky when the sun had begun to set, and her eyes were the same color of water running through a stream on a clear day, reflecting the soft blue of the sky. Oh, Sansa Stark would have become one of Westeros’ most beautiful women, if it hadn’t been for an accident that happened three years prior.

If she hadn’t have tripped over the too long and ill-fitting skirts she had worn on that dreadful morning, and fallen face first into the stove that kept her room warm at night. One side of her face still held her beauty in it, mocking the other, the now ruined side that now _tarnished_ her chances of ever finding a good husband.

She ran her hand gently over the ruined flesh, her fingers hovering over the mess and barely even touching the marred bumps and craters that were so disgusting to even her own  _family_. She took a good look at herself in the looking glass, the one she had to sneak into her own chambers –  _her mother had removed all of them as soon as it happened_. Her family had tried to stay brave about it all. They tried not to let it change anything…  _the keyword being tried_ …

Sansa had still been casted aside, alongside her bastard half-brother Jon. Men seeking treaties with her father now came for Arya’s hand, not hers. Despite her accident, she was not blind or deaf – she saw the glances her ruined half tempted from people, and she heard the harsh whispers behind her back.  _Did people really think her deaf, and not just ugly?_  She had come to love Jon far more than she even loved her father in the past few years – he still treated her like a lady, he still treated her of high regard. Instead of casting her aside, he had welcomed her to this…  _side_ with open arms. He had not taken pity on her either, not like the others had done.

She hid the looking glass so the servants and her mother would be unable to find it, and unlikely to stumble across it. She was supposed to be ignorant of all of this. Or so her mother and father had wanted her to be. But it was hard to be ignorant of the cold harsh truths that lay right in plain sight. Perhaps it wouldn’t have been so bad if she had always been this way – but she had grown use to everyone _fawning_ over her… and now it was the complete opposite.  _From beauty to beast_.

She heard their stories. She had heard them all, from what the nobles said, to what the common folk did. They said the maiden had grown jealous of her and ruined her face, and therein her competition. They said she was the child of the maiden’s born of the stranger’s seed… So many stories that talked of her ruined cheek and her _pitiful_  story brought it back to the seven. Needless to say, she didn’t follow the seven anymore. For any of them to cause this much pain and grief to an innocent child was a mockery of their powers and divinity. The new gods did not smite the innocent, they protected them – or at least they _should_. It was so much easier to pray only to her father’s gods now. They were the ones to send her only friend to her after all –  _Lady_ , she had to bite back at the irony of her direwolf’s name.

The wolves were found a year before her accident, and Lady had truly been the only friend who stuck by her side. Arya was now lifted up to the roles she used to fill – more time with their mother in a day than she now spent in a week, she was doted over by the Septa and any visiting lords and ladies. She and Arya had essentially switched places. For it was she now went hunting with Jon and learned how to wield weapons such as daggers, swords and bows.

Jon was the only one she had made aware of her plans, and kept all the secrets well. Sansa was preparing to leave Winterfell, with enough supplies for a month and enough money for a good while after that (She had been saving and stockpiling the coin for two years now). Sansa Stark was no longer a lady – whether the Starks would admit it or not – Sansa Stark would be nobody soon enough. She had been debating about changing her name completely, but she loved her name too much.  _Sansa_. It rolled off the tongue. Hopefully Sansa Snow was enough to keep the hounds at bay when she fled. She prayed to the old gods that she would be able to go free – that no one would search for her. It would be just her and Lady then – none of these whispers – none of these glares – and none of the pity from her family and former friends.

No longer would Sansa be helpless to watch as she was overlooked and scorned again and again. She would no longer have to watch any of it. She felt the tears slip down her cheeks, and quickly wiped them away - a bit more gently on the side that bore the scars. For now – poor scarred Sansa Snow would travel as far away from Winterfell as she could. After that, she’d figure something out. Fairytales and songs were for the rich and beautiful, the stupid and the dumb, the cunning and the bold. Sansa was none of those things anymore. She had once been naïve, stupid and beautiful. Now all she had were her wits.

Well that, and her self-perseverance.

Sansa glanced at where her packed bags were hidden away.  _Soon she would be leaving_. Soon she would discover herself. Maybe she’d even find love – though she doubted it. Men would want her body, that hadn’t been ruined – but no man would want her for her face. She bit at her lip, her feet itching and urging her to just go ahead already, but she had wanted to wait for her moonblood to stop first.

“Lady…” Sansa rose from her vanity and slipped into her bed, clutching her dressing gown closer to her –  _they’d removed the brazier after her accident and brought in a new one but placed it further away from everything – as if it would fix something_. The huge direwolf listened to her mistress and joined the young woman in her bed as she snuggled into the blankets and furs. “The old gods have no mercy.” She whispered across the room as she turned her head to watch the candle in her lantern begin to burn out. “That’s why they’re the only ones I believe in now – The seven, they’re just a bunch of pretenders… Just a shiny bunch of lies.”

She did not sleep well, she hadn’t gotten a full night’s rest in forever. But she couldn’t help but dream of her knight in shining armor, who loved her no matter what she looked like. He was fiercely loyal to her and sweet – tall and strong and brave yet  _gentle_ too – better than any other knight ever …  _and how she had cried when she woke up with the foolishness of it all still at the front of her mind_.


	2. Florian & Jonquil

Sansa left the day after her moonblood had stopped. Slipping through the gates of Winterfell on her horse with Lady close behind her. She had timed it with what Jon had told her was when the guards were at their thinnest and in the middle of a swap. It left the gates unmanned for just enough time for her to slip through. She prayed that Jon’s assistance didn’t get him into any trouble. Her mother already hated him for being her father’s bastard son. For when Jon’s mother died Eddard Stark took the boy - Sansa thought that was honorable of him, her mother thought it was a disgrace, a slight on her own honor.  

She rode the entire first night - though at various speeds – She also allowed her golden horse, Honey, and Lady to rest a bit as they went along, stopping at a few of the brooks, creeks and streams they stumbled across. She didn’t stop for a long break until she felt like they were a reasonable difference from Winterfell. That took three grueling nights and two days. She rested well that first night, though she still refused to start a fire – just in case – and well, because she would only admit to herself that she still had a small…  _fear_ of the stuff.

Sansa awoke on the third day of her journey at midday, the sun high in the sky as her saddle-sore body begged to stay in the furs she had packed for herself. She cursed herself internally for sleeping in. For no matter how much her body protested, she must move on. She fed Honey, and with Lady already had hunted in the earlier hours, she packed up and started out.

It was that day that Sansa ran into her first group of strangers. Crude men who jeered at her cloaked figure and cat-called and wolf-whistled at her. She ignored it and Lady had scared them off, and she rode as quickly as she could away from them with the dutiful wolf trailing behind her. At least they hadn’t seen her face, all the commoners in the North new of their….  _Ugly lady_.

It was a couple more days before she stumbled across another soul. She squinted her eyes to see the figure of a rather large and armored man atop a large black horse. The sun would begin setting soon, and she would need to find a place to settle in for the night…  As the figure came closer to her, and grew even bigger – Sansa recognized the man’s sigil that he wore across his chest.

“Forgive me, m’lord… You wouldn’t happen to know where I am?” She flashed a polite but stern smile from under her hood.

“Yer just south of Seaguard, miss.” The knight bowed his head at her politely. “Which way are you heading?”

“I plan on heading into the Westerlands, I’m in search of work.” She conveyed her friendliness through her voice instead of removing her hood.

“It is dangerous for a lady to travel alone.” Sansa’s eyes fell back to the sigil.

“I am no lady, m’lord, Sansa Snow is my name – and you are… Ser Clegane.” She looked up at the man’s face, studying him for a moment, watching him smile as he found himself recognized. “Stories of your bravery have journeyed North m’lord.”

“Please, call me Ser or Sandor miss… still it is unsafe to travel alone, I myself am heading home to the Westerlands, and I’ve sworn oaths to protect the weak…” The dark haired man tilted his head as he looked over her some more. “Have you any talents?”

“I’m fair with a needle m’lord, I am fair with animals as well.” She motioned towards Lady who came running from the woods and sat by Honey’s legs.

“I see you’ve got a companion, dogs are a loyal bunch.” The man lowered himself from his horse and Sansa was shocked by how tall he was even off of his horse. He offered his hand to Lady, who walked up to him and sniffed him, and then allowed him to pet her. Sansa’s eyes widen, she bit her lip but lowered herself from her own saddle. If Lady trusted this knight, Sandor Clegane, she knew she could as well.

“She’s not much of a dog, Ser – Lady’s a wolf.” Sansa was tall for a girl, but she only found herself around shoulder height compared to Clegane. She lifted her head to look at him, and noticed for a moment how  _northern_ he looked, and how he was _fairly_ handsome… Though, admittedly, not overly so.

“I thought that only the Starks had wolves.” He glanced up from Lady with a suspicious glint in his eyes.

“I found Lady as a pup m’lord, broken leg… healed her, nursed her back to health – she seemed so regal even then… she stayed with me once she healed completely.” She nodded and the knight eyed her hood.

“And why do you hide under your hood?” Her hand went to cover her burnt cheek quickly.

“M’lord, I was disfigured years ago… I… the sight of my face displeased my former lord and lady.” She lied smoothly, looking towards the ground. “It’s why I’m looking for new work.”

“I see… may I?” He motioned towards her hood and she lowered it, glancing up at him hesitantly.

“Ah… burns… I haven’t seen anyone with those since the war, nasty business…” He stared at her intently and she could feel the blood rush to her cheeks. “You’re still quite pretty with them, however… you must've had very petty lords.”

“You are too kind m’lord.” She bowed her head out of respect.

“Can you read and write?” He asked as he turned back towards his horse.

“Aye ser, I can.” She watched as he began to lead his horse towards a stream nearby the both of them.

“I’m a landed knight… my keep has seen better days I’m afraid, I was seeking someone to assist me with my duties, but no one who saw me seemed to fit what I was looking for.” He informed her as she followed him with Honey. “Perhaps you’d like the position? I could escort you there…”

“I would like that very much, ser… I ran in with a few men a few days ago…  _they didn’t see my face and Lady ran them off…_  but they were still quite lewd…” She admitted softly.

“I promise to guard your honor.” Sandor turned to smile at her,  _yes he was quite handsome in his own way_.

“I thank you for that ser, I have no idea what I’d do if I hadn’t stumbled upon you – I’m in your debt.” She bowed her head once more.

“You wouldn’t happen to know any songs would you?” She watched as Sandor Clegane began to unpack for the night.

“I would ser… my lady enjoyed my voice…” She lied sweetly, though it wasn’t a  _complete_ lie. Her mother, when she could still stand to look at her, had adored her voice as well.

“Would you mind letting me hear a bit? That’ll take care of your debt – I don’t want anyone owing me anything, especially when they’re already going to be working for me.” He began to set up for a fire.

Sansa began to sing Florian and Jonquil for him, he abruptly stopped moving around and took in the sound of her voice. Sansa’s cheek flushed again but she went to unpacking her own things and soon heard him begin to move around behind her again.


End file.
